


The Taste of Cinnamon

by Kattlupin



Series: An Endless Account of First Dates [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chicago, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, REAL ART, Sirius is a mess, i mean it’s a giant ball of fluff, lots of cinnamon, remus is amazing, tumblr life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 15:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19948879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kattlupin/pseuds/Kattlupin
Summary: Sirius, after flirting his way through Remus’s ask box on tumblr, lands a date to drink chai, look at art and eat cinnamon rolls.





	The Taste of Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cruisinwritealong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cruisinwritealong/gifts).



> Thanks so much to @cruisinwritealong for the inspiration for this fic! I can’t believe a simple get to know me post led to so much imagined fun. I hope you enjoy! 😘

Sirius anxiously flipped through his phone from where he stood beside one of the two life sized bronze lion statutes that stand century at the stairs leading to the Art Institute of Chicago. Fitting, he thought when he chose the meeting place, sure that this Remus Lupin, or as he’d previously know him @cruisinwritealong, would recognize the significance. For it was a mutual love of a popular fictional universe that led him to where he was today, eagerly awaiting his mystery date, with two steaming hot cups of extra spicy and cinnamony chai.

Though now that he was standing here, he was incredibly nervous and cursing himself for being so impulsive. I mean, who just pops un-anonymously into someone’s ask box on tumblr asking them to describe their type? It doesn’t matter that it was part of a get to know you list. Why’d he have to always chose the boldest option? And why did he have to shamelessly flirt when he got a response? And even more concerning, why was he so desperate for this Remus Lupin to like him? He didn’t even know what he looked like. All he knew was his writing, which he loved and followed relentlessly. But here he was, standing in front of his favorite museum, waiting to show it to someone who he only sort of knew from mutual shit-posting, fic writing and reblogging.

“Stupid Sirius,” he grumbles kicking the concrete base of the lion statue, his head hung low.

“Sirius?” A kind voice, smooth as chocolate, interrupts what was shaping up to be a colossal spiral of doubt and self loathing on Sirius’s part.

Fuck, Sirius silently curses himself as his head whips around to the source of the voice. And then, Fuck, he silently curses again as he takes in the absolutely breathtaking sight that is before him. Medium height, long lean build, golden skin with a sprinkling of sun made freckles, warm deep amber eyes just slightly shadowed by a delightful mop of caramel brown hair, perfectly dressed in dark slim fitting jeans and a legitimately vintage Velvet Underground tee shirt. Sirius was instantly smitten.

“Remus?” Sirius questions, the soft glow of a blush brightening his cheeks.

The boy standing before him nods his head and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Sirius grabs Remus’s proffered hand and receives a simple squeeze that sends butterflies a flight in his stomach. “Nice to meet you to Remus, or should I call you cruisinwritealong.”

Remus gives a shy laugh, his own cheeks reddening as well. “You can call me Remus,” he says with a shy smile to match his laugh. “No point in hiding behind the anonymity of tumblr handles now that I’ve seen your face.”

“Wow, you talk like the fics you write. Tossing out words like anonymity in casual meet cute conversation.” Sirius teases, feeling already at ease around the other boy. It’s amazing how much you can learn about a person through their fics.

“Is this a meet cute?” Remus questions. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the amount of fluff you write.”

“I don’t write only fluff!” Sirius exclaims in mock defense.

“You do actually,” Remus chides playfully. “And I rather like it.”

Sirius’s face lights up at the praise. It’s funny how the simplest compliment about his writing can warm his being. All too often he pours a bit of his soul into a fic, just to have hardly anyone do something as simple as to hit the little heart at the bottom. Though Sirius must admit, that this Remus has been liking and reblogging his work for weeks. He’s even nice enough to comment on AO3, the ultimate gratification for your writing efforts.

“Shall we go in then?” Sirius suggests as he hands Remus his chai.

“Definitely.” Remus takes the paper cup and indulges in a long sip. Sirius notices the way Remus’s eyes softly close and the contented smile that blooms across his face as he tastes the warm and spicy drink, extra cinnamon just like they’d talked about. “God’s that’s good!”

Sirius winks at him and takes a sip of his own, then gestures for Remus to follow him.

They walk side by side up the wide staircase and through the entrance of the sprawling building. There’s so much to see and Sirius can’t wait to show Remus all of his favorite works of art.

“Don’t we need to pay?” Remus asks before taking another sip of his drink.

“No need,” Sirius says hesitantly and stops to turn and look at Remus. He rocks a little on his feet and casts his eyes downward guiltily. “My family, they kind of have some connections here.”

Remus looks at him skeptically, an eyebrow raised.

“They’ve made a few donations,” Sirius explains sheepishly.

“Donations?”

“Yeah and they kind of own the planetarium down the street.” Sirius keeps his eyes downcast and internally curses himself again. Stupid Sirius, why didn’t you just pay. Could’ve saved yourself a lot of explaining.

Remus’s eyes go wide. “Are you a Black?”

“Well, sort of... I mean, I am,” Sirius sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“Got it.” Remus nods softly at him, takes a sip, then gives Sirius a warm smile. “How bout you show me your favorite painting.”

Sirius takes another sip, letting the warm liquid calm his growing nerves and finishes with a deep breath. “Alright,” he finally says as they start walking again. “I was going to save this for last but since you asked, we can start with it.”

Sirius leads him up three separate flights of stairs, they stop and take in the art around them when something catches either of their eyes. Sirius notices that Remus is drawn to a lot of the French Impressionist paintings. They pause for a long time at the large George Seurat, Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, a favorite amongst everyone who visits the museum, because it’s beautiful and peaceful; and because everyone wants to have their very own Ferris Bueller’s Day Off moment. From there it’s just another staircase, this time going down, to reach the place where Sirius’s favorite painting is on display.

They’re halfway down the stairs, at the point where they flatten out to turn, when Sirius halts, he grabs Remus’s forearm to stop him from traveling further.

“What?” Remus asks, confusion playing on his face.

Sirius smiles serenely at Remus and thinks that he is more beautiful than any painting they’ve seen today. He takes a step back to press his back against the rail, bringing Remus to stand beside him. Sirius looks to his right to see Remus staring at him, confused still but smiling just the same. Sirius uses his free hand and points up, helping Remus spot the enormous Georgia O’Keeffe painting, Sky Above Clouds, that hangs overlooking the entire grand staircase they are currently standing still on.

“Wow,” Remus says stunned. “It’s amazing, I can’t believe I almost missed it.”

“Most people do,” Sirius says serenely. “They walk past it, hurrying up and down these stairs and never stop to notice the beauty hanging right above them.”

“When you put it like that, I can see why it’s your favorite.”

Remus’s words are soft and honest to Sirius’s ears. And maybe it’s the way he says it or just the silent message of the painting they’re taking in, but Sirius can’t help it as his hand slides down Remus’s forearm to grab him by his hand, seamlessly interweaving they’re fingers together. To Sirius’s relief, Remus doesn’t let go.

Sirius sees Remus turn his head to look at him. “Do you have any other surprises Mr. Black?”

“No,” Sirius laughs. “Just this one.”

Remus turns to look at the painting again, but Sirius keeps his eyes on Remus. He’s a work of art of his own, right down to the small scar that crosses his nose, like a crack in an aged and perfectly crafted Roman statue.

Remus looks back to Sirius, his warm amber eyes catch Sirius’s own grey ones and Sirius feels his heart skip a beat. They pause there, looking intently at each other, as if a spell was cast holding them in place.

It’s Remus who breaks the silence as he’s jostled by another patron who’s hurrying past, completely oblivious to the beauty they were rushing under. “I believe you mentioned grabbing cinnamon rolls.”

“Ahh, yeah,” Sirius stammers, running his hand through his hair. With the spell between them broken, he feels his heart sink a little, silently wondering if he had imagined the connection. “Across the street, where I got the chai’s, there’s a coffee shop that makes them from scratch.”

“Excellent,” Remus says excitedly with a smile. “I could go for another chai as well.”

Sirius turns to lead the way down the stairs and just as he’s about to let go of Remus’s hand, suddenly self conscious of the fact he’s still holding it, he’s stopped by the feeling of Remus’s fingers giving him a firmer grasp. Maybe there was something lingering still between them.

They exited the Art Institute and ran hand and hand across the street, dodging through the traffic that was slowly crawling down the length of Michigan Avenue, making a bee line to their destination. Sirius reluctantly let go of Remus’s hand as he opened the door and ushered him into the coffee shop. The smell of coffee and warm cinnamon engulfed Sirius’s senses.

“Two cinnamon rolls and two chai’s please,” Sirius orders, extending his debit card to the cashier.

Remus places his hand over Sirius’s. “I’ve got this.”

“No,” Sirius counters and places his hand back atop Remus’s. “I suggested this date, I’m paying.”

“Thank you,” Remus says with a kind smile as he removes his hand and grabs the two plates with their cinnamon rolls on them.

Sirius finishes the transaction at the counter and grabs the two steaming hot mugs of chai after topping them both with a heavy shake of extra cinnamon. With their hands full of their afternoon treats, the boys make their way to a nearby table and sit down across from each other, their knees knocking together under the table.

Remus digs into his cinnamon roll with his fork and takes a bite, humming slightly when the buttery cinnamon hits his tongue. The sound of the hum lights Sirius’s senses on fire. He’d give anything to make this lovely boy before him make that noise again.

“Pretty good, huh?” Sirius asks.

“Amazing,” Remus replies, taking another bite. He chews thoughtfully then washes it down with a sip of his chai, leaving a small dab of foam on his lip that Sirius wants to lick off.

“You have,” Sirius settling on just wiping it away, reaches across the table, “a little,” he thumbs Remus’s top lip, “foam, right there.”

“Oh,” Remus says shyly, embarrassment rising on his face.

Sirius just stares, offering up nothing but a dopey smile. Silently wondering if maybe he does believe in love at first sight, soulmates and all those other tropes he writes so proficiently about. There must be some truth to it after all.

“So, tell me about your current wip,” Remus inquires, breaking Sirius’s thoughts on the potential simplicities of love, but also how much he’d like to lick Remus’s lips now that he got to touch them.

“Oh,” Sirius shakes is head and laughs. “Where do I even start? There’s so many.”

“I know what you mean, just when I think I have one fleshed out, another prompt lands in my ask box and I get distracted.”

“Wait! People send you prompts!?!” Sirius asks incredulously. “I have to beg for those. Most of my writing comes from my own life. Or at least how I wish my life would go.”

“Well maybe you could consider this date a prompt.” Remus ducks his head and Sirius is struck dumb at the way his lashes flutter against the tops of his slightly freckled cheeks.

“Maybe I will,” Sirius says with a wicked grin, reaching across the table again, this time to tip Remus’s gaze to look back at him. He’s rewarded with a demure smile from the other boy. A smile that tells Sirius all he needs to know. He lifts himself a few inches off his chair to lean across the table, no longer able to resist. Leaning in, he quietly asks, almost a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

Remus nods quickly and closes the gap, pressing his lips against Sirius’s. And at this moment, soft lips and warm cinnamon shared between them, Sirius realizes that all the tired tropes he writes about, are deliciously rooted in the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @kattlupin. Maybe one of our tumblr conversations can become a fic as well.


End file.
